Trials of One's Life
by Capybara
Summary: Random tales from the lives of our favorite YYH characters. Includes the UPS truck and stag beetles.
1. Kurama

Disclaimer: I don't own YYH. Duh.

A/N: Okay, here is my attempt at humor. I'm pretty sure that my humor is a little warped, and maybe a little out-dated, but here goes.

Chapter 1: Kurama's POV

I woke up, my mind filled with the remains of a dream I would never remember. Basically I did the same things any other fifteen year old did to get ready for school. I brushed my teeth. I put my clothes on. Same old uniform. At high school we had to wear this puke-moss green spawn of a toad. It was just pants and a long-sleeved shirt. It clashed with my hair something awful. I grabbed my books and flew out the door. Mother was already at work. The school loomed ahead of me like a brick tomb.

Another fun day! I was screaming bloody murder inside at the thought of sitting through Social Studies. _Not if we stole Mr. Piebald's belt. _I killed the thought that Youko sent me, though it amused me. As I reached my locker, another fear hit me. It was a week before Valentine's Day! Last year at this time, my locker had been filled with the dreaded love notes. Against my will, apparently the girls had organized a fan club. It had to be my hair. My hair is the most beautiful red thing on the earth. If the fan club would vanish if I changed my hair, I still wouldn't do it. My hair was just too perfect.

Cautiously, I opened my locker. I looked into…a solid wall of notes. I looked, then looked again. My entire locker's contents refused to budge even though it was open. The notes were that packed in there. A scream caught in my throat. Every girl in the entire school must have asked me out!

Several jealous guys watched my locker from a distance. They would never be able to compete with my hair. _Aren't you a little obsessed with your hair?_ I completely ignored Youko. Now the daunting task of cleaning my locker out so that I could put some books in there.

I considered finding Hiei, he could just torch every last cursed note. Finally, I realized that class would start in ten minutes. I had to clean my locker out. Carefully I touched an innocent note. The whole thing collapsed on top of me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw girls start fighting about me. My hair.

To be polite, I read approximately one note. It said:

**Suuichi, I lov u! I am your most loyal fan. I am # 777 of the official Suuichi fan club. Please be my valentine!**

My stomach lurched. Member 777! That was bad. "It's not that bad, at least 777 people are worshipping my glamorous hair," I said. Mentally I felt a brief suicidal thought from Youko.

"Are you planning to pick the hallway up, Mr. Minamori?" a voice asked from behind me. I turned and saw…Mrs. Sanda. The evil head janitor, she had white hair and a pinched face. She never did any work. She simply made the students do it.

I spent the next four hours picking up every single note in the hallway. At least it got me out of Mr. Piebald's class. Then the bell rang. God. Now the real torture would begin. Today was Tuesday. I had gym on Tuesday. So did about fifty other people. Most were girls.

I went to the boy's locker room. I ignored Youko's comments such as: _Go in the girls! You might see one naked! They wouldn't care… _I hated Youko's slightly perverted disposition. I always assumed that it was because after 450 years, the notorious thief Youko was still a virgin! He hated me knowing that. I had even gotten him to confess that he had never seen a girl naked either.

I put the loathed gym suit on. We also had an evil dress code for gym. Some really perverted person had invented the gym clothes we had to wear. It was a body suit. A spandex body suit. A really revealing spandex body suit. A puke-moss green really revealing spandex body suit.

I stepped into the gym. It was a plain gym with a big stag beetle painted in the center of the floor. I hated the school mascot, which was the stag beetle. How the hell was that a mascot? Naturally, the flock of evil beings I call girls floated towards me. Soon, they would practically consume me; I would have to fight for air. All because of my heavenly hair. _I love gym._ Youko reminded me for the thousandth time. The girls also had to wear a puke-moss green really revealing spandex bodysuit.

The girls were closing in on me. My heart raced, I was prepared to fight for my life. But I was saved by Mr. Meckless the gym teacher. He had a retarded look on his face. It looked like he had just had the worst constipation of his life and he was proud of living through it. That was how Youko had described him the first time he saw Mr. Meckless.

Mr. Meckless made us do eight laps around the gym. The girls tried to follow me, but I did my best to stay ahead of them without revealing my power. Then he had us play tag. Tag. That must be the stupidest game I had ever heard of in my whole life. Finally, the torture ended and the bell rang. Youko suggested going into the girl's locker room again. I paid no attention.

Lunch consisted of: Unknown, possibly toxic substances. _I could eat a squirrel with rabies and live longer than if I ate this crap._ I thought that Youko was wise on this particular subject. I ate nothing.

The following classes were the same old usual boring things. When the last period mercifully ended, I opened my locker to get my stuff. An avalanche followed. Surprisingly, paper hurts. I had once again filled the hallway with notes. "Holy Crap! How can the girls write so many freaking notes!" I demanded angrily. But I endued all pain for my hair. It was more precious than a ruby.

A finger tapped my shoulder. It was Mrs. Sanda. She glared at a random note as if to vaporize it, then left me there. I wasted another four hours of my life picking up love notes. With hatred I noticed that most of the notes came from someone called Yami Suigen.

Finally I was able to go home. Thank God. As I walked home, Youko babbled on and on. He never shuts up. This time, Youko told me a story about him being the best thief in the world by stealing an amulet. Boring. He had told me this story before. When I got to my house, Mother's car was in the driveway. At first I thought she was early. I was late. It was already seven. When I opened the door, Mother practically charged at me.

"Suuichi! Where were you!" Mother crushed me in a hug.

"Valentine notes," I wheezed out. Mother got the idea and stopped hugging me. Her brown eyes were sympathetic. This had happened last year too. Tomorrow I would have to face another locker full.

"At least you're so popular with the girls," Mother said. "Most guys don't get half as much attention in a life time. So, who is going to be your valentine this year?" I froze. I had completely forgotten! The school always had a contest to find the cutest valentine couple. Last year I had gotten only second place. No! This year I would win! The prize was 1oo dollars! That's enough to buy even more hair products to make my hair even perfecter!

"I don't know Mother, not yet." She winked at me. Then, just as she turned away, I glimpsed an evil look in her eye. I was scared. Mother hardly ever looked evil unless she was going to be evil. Great.

A/N: Weird, no? I hope you at least _thought _about laughing at some of it. Please review. I accept all kinds, just so long as they are reviews.


	2. Hiei

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.

A/N: Here goes chapter 2. This is my personal favorite--it features my personal favorite--HIEI!

Hiei's POV

I sat in my favorite tree, the oak in Kurama's yard. It had the perfect nook that I could sit in. I thought that it was cold, so I continued doing nothing. Cold does not bother me. I am above it. There was a branch that shielded my face from the sun. It was nice, not nessesary. I am also above light. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon. I had been here all day. I was…bored. Kurama must be late. I recalled the ningen date, and the holiday that came with it. Ningen are bakas. Valentine's day can kiss my butt. But it would bite Kurama's. I thought about last year's round of love notes. Didn't onna ningens have anything to do? As I pondered on the bakaness of ningens, Kurama's ningen mother drove up.

I sat in the tree, oblivious to the cramp growing in my back. I am above that. My katana was looking cleaner than ever. Too clean. It needed blood on it again. My hand twitched with temptation. Who should I kill this time? Perhaps Kuwabaka? I smiled sadistically with the thought. Great fun. The temptation was growing. I forced myself to ignore it. I am above it.

A UPS truck rumbled past. The temptation was overpowering. I loved the idiotic Ups truck. So bakaish. My katana seemed to scream at me to "deliver" the driver's death. Then I could hijack the UPS truck for my self. The sadistic smile returned. I jumped out of the tree gracefully. Of course I did not stub my toe. Oh no. I am above stubbing my toe. I do not stub my toe. Never do I stub my toe. I pushed the embarrassing thought out of my mind.

Quickly, with my speed, I caught up with the infamous UPS truck. I jumped on the back of it. With my lovely katana, I ripped the top open. I jumped in. Dusty packages crowded the back. I fondly whacked all the packages with the word "fragile" on it with my katana. With my Amy.

I stopped dead. With my Amy? Amy? Who the hell was that? A sudden thought popped into mind. What if I secretly named my katana Amy? It would be easy to refer to my lovely katana as Amy. No one would ever know. "I officially dub you, my loyal bloodstained katana as Amy," I declared out loud. Suddenly I found myself hoping the wall separating the packages and the driver was soundproof. What wall?

The driver turned around and faced me. The driver was an old hag who thought that she could go all techno to fit herself back into youth. The results were disgusting. She had a nose ring, double eyebrow piercing, and three earrings stuffed into each earlobe. She had dyed her gray hair orange. I suddenly found myself wanting to vomit. But I am above that. The freak old hag stared at me. Her face had sagged so much; I estimated she would be scooping it off the floor in another month.

I suddenly felt sorry for Amy who would have to cut this thing in half. Apparently, she wouldn't have to. The freak driver had been staring at me so long, that she had gone off the road, and three seconds later, the UPS truck crashed head on into a trailer. The impact threw the freak through the windshield. I absolutely did not go crashing into the dashboard and nearly gutting myself on the stick shift. No way would that ever happen to me. I am above that.

Clutching my gut, I realized that the UPS truck had stopped. The freak driver had not only crashed through the windshield, but through one of the trailer's windows. Two words for this hopefully deceased baka ningen, seat belt. Another thought hit me. I had to get away from the scene of the crime. With the UPS truck. I hopped into the driver's seat. I recalled when Kurama had once tried to teach me to drive. I remembered two things. One: I remembered how to hotwire a vehicle. The second thing I remembered was the gas pedal. I jammed my foot on the gas pedal.

The speedometer jacked all the way up to ninety. I turned so sharp that I almost rolled. The tires squealing, I drove to an abandoned garage, and deposited my prize there. For now.

Taking Amy with me, I dashed back to my tree. I got back to my tree, and climbed up it. Now I would wait for Kurama to get back. I was innocent. He wasn't back because his light that usually came from his room was not present. I settled down in my tree, with Amy next to me. The sun had set by now. An owl hooted directly above me. An instant later, I felt something warm and wet slide down my hair into my eyes. When I realized what it was, the tree spontaneously combusted. No way was I stupid enough to forget I was also in the tree and burn my butt. No way. I am above that. With my butt stinging and my eyes blinded, I found my way through Kurama's window and searched for something to wipe the foul substance off my face.

I heard an amused chuckle. It was Kurama's. "Holy crap Hiei!" Kurama cried out, laughter creeping into his voice, "I think a bird crapped on you!" I did not see the humor. I grabbed the first cloth-like object that fell into my hands and wiped my face. The first thing I saw was Kurama laughing crazily, tears sliding down his cheeks. That is, until he saw what I had wiped my face with. It had been his pillow. Now it was my turn to laugh evilly. Kurama's face steadily turned red. I continued laughing. At that point, he discovered my charred clothing. Kurama started laughing again. I absolutely did not trip when I went to put Kurama out of his misery. No, I did not restub the toe that I did not stub earlier. And I did not land on my face so hard that blood poured out of my nose. And Kurama did not laugh harder when he saw me on the floor. I am above that. I did not realize that I said that out loud. Kurama laughed even harder.

"Are you in denial Hiei that you are not above anything?" Kurama choked out between laughing fits. He rolled on the floor, clutching his sides, tears pouring out. Then he rolled straight into the wall and whacked his forehead. I giggled. No, I did not giggle. I am above that. I laughed cruelly.

A/N: Yep. Hilarious. That's what I think, anyway. Tell me what you think.


	3. Yusuke

Disclaimer: Yes, I know, you love to ruin my delusions--I don't own it. There, I said it. Are you happy now?

A/N: Here goes chapter 3. Enter the plastic obsession.

Yusuke's POV

I held my prize close; no one could be allowed to touch the sacred object except for me. My mom was not home, as usual. Probably getting drunk again. That was good. I had no obstacles to face; I could visit the shrine freely. I gripped the new, plastic covered poster harder. This was to be a holy moment at the shrine. Gingerly I sat the poster down on the table. I had to get the incense candles.

Never must anybody find the shrine. When my last shrine was discovered by my mom, I was in therapy for a week. Mental therapy. How embarrassing was that? At the time my shrine had been to rubber. Rubber was my God, until I discovered a new God. My mom would never find and tear down my new shrine. That week in therapy had scarred me. It was torture. The therapist made me relinquish my obsessive nature to rubber. But it still had a place in me. Now a new obsession reigned. Plastic.

The incense candles were small, pink, and fat. The original wrapper had said that they smelled like "fresh breeze." No matter, they were the holy candles of plastic. I grabbed the five candles, and ran upstairs. I hunted around for the lighter. The holy poster was still there, in its godly plastic wrap. I found the holy lighter.

The lighter was yellow with a small Bugs Bunny sticker on it. I had no idea how the sticker got there. Perhaps it came from my very first shrine, the sticker shrine. My mom had found that one also.

With my candles, lighter, and holy poster, I went to the shrine. In my room, I pulled the mattress off the bed. There in all its glory sat my plastic shrine. A collection of holy wrappers, bottles, and scraps of plastic. The ruling god and goddess were Michael Jackson and Brittany Spears. They were my heroes. The mister and mistress of plastic. They were truly 100 artificially made plastic human beings.

I knelt to the ground on my knees. I bowed to them. Then I put the incense candles gently around the lone poster of Michael Jackson, framing his godly image. The lighter lit the candles easily. I carefully unwrapped the holy plastic off the holy poster. The plastic wrap went into the pile of holy plastic scraps. I unrolled the poster. Now was the holy moment. The poster unfurled in all its glory! There was my goddess in the ink before me!

I bowed so fast and hard I whacked my head on the floor. A small price to pay for the glory of Brittany Spears. I kept my face to the floor as I uttered a prayer.

"Long live plastic!" I cried out. What was that smell? I sniffed the air. It smelled funny. Like plastic burning. I sat there for a while trying to figure things out.

I stood up instantly after murmuring another prayer. The shrine was on fire!

"NOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed. Flames were devouring the holy posters of Brittany Spears and Michael Jackson! The flames were moving to the holy pile of plastic! One of the candles had tipped over, spreading flame. I was stunned for a second. What could I do to save my God and Goddess? A crazy thought lodged in my brain. It would work. I breathed in the smoke uncertainly. I would indeed sacrifice myself for them. I had to save them at all costs.

"NOOOO! Evil flames of Paper, take me instead of Them!" I flung myself on the flames. It was hot! I screamed in agony, but I would endure all for my deities. The flames died as I sat on them. But a small spark flew onto my wall. It instantly caught fire. I cursed. Quickly I lifted my unpure organic body off the pure artificial ones. Brittany's face had been burned badly. Michael's hand was destroyed by the evil flames. No! They couldn't die! Plastic must reign! I laughed insanely as my chest stung from the flames that I had killed.

My wall was now totally aflame, but I didn't care. I had to save my plastic shrine. I took my charred shirt off to use as a transportation system. I loaded all the holy plastic into my shirt. Then I carefully lifted Michael and Brittany off the bed, which had also caught fire.

I dashed down the stairs laughing manically. I had saved my shrine! Smoke crept around my head. I dashed outside. Gingerly I deposited my shirt and holy posters. People outside passing by me stared at me.

"What? I had to save the Mister and Mistress of Plastic!" I called out to people exasperatedly. They walked away faster. I grinned. They didn't understand, but oh they would soon. Plastic would take over the world. The only way to be saved was to worship it. I was to be saved.

I heard the scream of fire truck sirens. That reminded me. I looked up so see the whole side of my house on fire. I prayed to plastic that my mom wouldn't kill me. The fire truck pulled up to our house and the firemen jumped out. They hosed the house down with water. I clutched my plastic shrine close. Finally the fire was put out. I sighed in relief. Once again the plastic shrine would bless my toasted room with its presence.

"Yusuke! Are you alright?" I turned to see Keiko standing there, worry on her face.

"I'm fine Keiko." Keiko eyed my burnt chest and my shirt containing my shrine.

"What happened to you, Yusuke?" Keiko asked curiously.

"I saved my shrine…" I mumbled. Now my mom would take away this shrine too! The horror of therapy would befall me once again.

"Your shrine?"

"My plastic shrine," I muttered unhappily. Then my mom walked up from nowhere. She looked at me, then to Keiko's face.

At that moment a firefighter came up to my mom.

"Ma'am, I think this was the cause of the fire." The guy held up a slightly melted incense candle. It smelled so sweetly.

"Yusuke," My mom began, "Is that from another shrine?" I did not respond. She nodded; sure that it was another shrine. "I'll have to put you back in therapy Yusuke, you need help." Keiko was stunned. I bawled, "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

A/N: Is it just me, or does everyone have an obsession? If you want me to write in another character that I haven't yet, review and tell me to--I'm open.


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